


Subjection

by ArchOfImagine



Series: Submersion [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Bottom Sam, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Past Incest, Past Kidnapping, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Physical Abuse, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam and his brother were kidnapped as children and forced into the unthinkable — Sam's parents handle the situation by throwing him into a mental institution. </p><p>His past is the same as Dean's: two boys suffering through trauma together, abandoned by their parents in their time of need.</p><p>But while Dean got to run away... Sam was subjected to years of dwelling on the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Are you a [Submersion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3208745/chapters/6979427) reader? Wonderful! This is _Sam's_ story. It should be read in conjunction with chapters 13 and 14 of Submersion.
> 
> If you aren't reading [Submersion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3208745/chapters/6979427)... what's wrong with you? Go! Now! It's awesome!
> 
> Special thanks to my partner in crime: [hufflebutt](http://hufflecas.tumblr.com) for editing.
> 
> If I've missed a tag, please let me know in the comments!

  
_”There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother… Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him too.”_ \- Anna Quindlan

\--- Four Years Earlier ---

”What’re ya in for?”

Sam ignored the voice. Since his arrival five days prior, he had been visited by numerous other patients wanting to know why he was there.

He had no intentions of _socializing_ within the looney bin.

Ignorance was obviously not going to work with this particular person. Sam’s line of sight was suddenly filled with a kid about his age, golden blonde hair in his eyes as he sucked on a lollipop and stared at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Why are you in my room?”

“Checkin’ that you weren’t catatonic. Those other guys are boring.”

“Well I’m not, please go away.” He pulled the blanket tighter around his body and stared out the window. His view was a small courtyard in the middle of the hospital building. There were actual _bars_ on the windows. 

“How old are you?” Lollipop kid asked, making himself comfortable on Sam’s bed across the room.

He didn’t reply. He refused to make friends. His parents would come to their senses in a couple of days and he would be gone and away from the damn psychiatric facility that they had dropped him off at.

Sam _wasn’t_ crazy. Loving your brother didn’t make you crazy.

“Y’know, the intense brooding kinda gives it away. Lemme guess — fourteen? Fifteen?” Lollipop made an obscene slurping noise before continuing, “Can’t be old enough to drive, or you would have split the moment they considered throwing you in here. I seen you check in. Was that your parents? Hard sell, man.”

“They’ll be back Monday to check me out,” Sam argued.

“Sure. Of course. I said the same thing when my Dad dropped me off—” he leveled a pointed look at Sam, “—six months ago.”

_Six months._ Sam wasn’t sure he could handle six months in that place. “Just leave me alone,” he whispered. 

“Sure thing, honey bear.” The bed squeaked and footsteps made their way out of his room. 

A few minutes later, when Sam turned from the window and looked back to his empty bed, he noticed an object lying against the white sheet.

Curiosity had him standing and walking over to see what it was. Against the fabric lay a wrapped grape lollipop.

\---

Lollipop kid’s name was Gabriel, but Sam heard people refer to him as both Gabe and _Gabby_ which seemed more than a little strange to him. Sam had grown to despise nicknames. Probably because everytime someone referred to him as ‘Sammy’, he thought about his brother.

‘My parents will be here Monday’ turned into two weeks before even receiving a phone call. If Sam didn’t have problems before entering the facility, he certainly did after a few weeks of abandonment. Depression hit him hard, to the point that he wasn’t eating and his sleep was filled with nightmares. The doctors tried to get him to talk at counseling sessions but he refused. They also tried force feeding him depression medications, but the meds only dulled the pain for a little while. 

On a dull Saturday afternoon, Sam lay in bed with the sheets pulled over his head and tried to fight back his tears. It was raining outside, dark storm clouds keeping his whole room shadowed. They did nothing for his mood.

The door to his room opened, but he didn’t move. Nurses tried to get him to talk or eat all of the time but it never worked. According to his last check up, he had lost five pounds in a week. 

The extra space on his bed shifted beneath the weight of another body. The sheets pulled tighter against him, but he still refused to move. 

After a moment, a smell started to permeate the cotton.

_French fries._

Sam’s stomach grumbled. He held fast. “I’m not going to eat,” he whispered, voice muffled by the sheets.

He heard chewing and frowned. A nurse was eating his food? That didn’t seem appropriate.

“Meh. I don’t really care if you eat or not. Starve to death… I don’t give a fuck.” 

_Gabriel._

More chewing. Along with the smell of french fries, Sam could also make out melty cheese and grilled beef. He had never even seen a cheeseburger and fries offered on the platters the staff brought in. Where had Gabriel snagged the food from?

He grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it down far enough to peek at the other boy. Gabe was completely reclined on the bed, tray balanced on his lap with two cheeseburgers and two plates of fries. _Fuck_ it looked good.

“Are they paying you to bribe me?” Sam questioned softly.

“Three bags of skittles, two bags of M&Ms, and five suckers,” Gabriel replied. 

Sam’s stomach grumbled once more as he watched Gabriel take a bite out of one of the burgers. “If I give in, will you split the bounty?”

The other boy pondered the offer, lips pursing as he stared across the room. After a moment, he countered. “I will on one condition… you have to answer five questions of my choosing while we eat.”

Sam shook his head, hair falling in his face. “Two.”

“Four… and you can have both bags of M&Ms. Not a fan of those.”

“All answers remain confidential?”

“Completely. Those fucktards out there don’t know the first thing about _real_ psychiatry.”

Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Deal. Let me have that burger.”

The food tasted amazing, and Gabriel let him enjoy a few bites before asking his first question. “Where are you from, pudding cup?”

The special ‘state-of-the-art’ facility that they were being held hostage in was right outside Dallas. His parents had said they were going on a much needed family vacation when they packed him up and drove away from home. Fucking parents. “Kansas. About an hour south of Kansas City.”

“Fun.” Gabriel finished his burger and slowly began working through his plate of fries. “My dad is in Chicago. He had his assistant bring me down here.”

“I thought you said he dropped you off.”

“Sure.” Gabriel rolled his golden brown eyes. “At the airport.” He waved a fry in Sam’s direction. “What’s your orientation?”

The question made Sam frown and stop eating, burger held midair and temporarily forgotten about. “I thought you were going to ask me about why I’m stuck in the mental ward. How is my preference for boys or girls relevant?” 

Gabriel smirked. “Boys then. _Interesting._ ”

“I didn’t say that!”

“If you paid attention during your sessions with Dr. Horrible, you would know that saying _boys_ first means they’re first on your mind. Also, adamant denial means you like boys even though you’ve been taught that you shouldn’t.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, ready to deny the observation once more, but stopped. Gabriel wasn’t right. Sam didn’t like _boys_. His brain had spent three months being conditioned to only focus on _one_ boy. And now that Dean was gone, Sam was lost. He could barely focus on anything else.

“So,” Gabriel continued. “What’re you in for?”

He should have known that question was coming. He contemplated giving the medical terms of his condition, but decided on going the _blunt_ direction instead. “My brother and I were kidnapped and the sick bastard forced my brother to rape me. Apparently I’m fucked up in the head now.”

Not surprisingly, Gabriel began to choke on the french fry he had just swallowed. Sam reached over, patting his back gently. Once the food was dislodged and Gabriel was no longer about to die, he managed a reply. “All that and your parents’ answer was to throw you in here? I hate to ask, but what did they do to your brother?”

Sam took a few more small bites of his cheeseburger, but suddenly the flavor was lost and it felt like he was trying to eat wet cement. He set the food aside and frowned. “They kicked him out. Blamed him for everything… letting the kidnapper into our house, raping me. We were rescued just a few days afterwards. My dad just couldn’t understand why Dean didn’t wait. How could he do that to me, when we were about to get rescued, Dad said.”

“You didn’t know you were going to get rescued,” Gabriel offered, his voice calm and understanding. “And I’m guessing there’s more to the story. I doubt your brother would do that without being forced.”

“It was either Dean or the kidnapper.” Sam shoved the plate away and stood. “Okay, you got your four questions — time to go.” He moved to the small bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. With the bathroom fan on, it was impossible to hear Gabriel leaving the room. 

Hopefully it was also impossible to hear Sam’s sobs.

\---

From that moment on, the staff knew Sam’s weakness. If Gabriel showed up with a plate of food and some candy, Sam would eat and sometimes Sam would talk. They never discussed the reason behind Sam’s arrival again, but Gabriel did offer up his own background as a means of solidarity. His story involved a string of petty thefts, half a dozen psychologists, and one failed suicide attempt.

After the largest of his crimes, Gabriel’s father had paid off the judge and promised to get Gabriel some real help. Then he dropped the boy off at the airport and had his assistant escort Gabe to Texas and check him in at the facility. What had initially been staggered attempts and gaining his father’s attention had ultimately driven his father away completely.

Gabriel was four months and five days older than Sam and they liked a lot of the same music, movies, books. They also shared a love for pranking the medical staff on duty. When the staff got annoyed and tried to separate the boys they would go on mutual hunger strikes until the nurses gave in and let them hang out again.

Once six months had passed with only a handful of visits from his parents, Sam started to begrudgingly accept that he would be there for a while. His doctors promised that if he showed signs of improvement after eight months, they would release him.

Eight months turned into twelve.

Twelve months turned into eighteen.

The psychiatric hospital turned into home.

For Gabriel’s seventeenth birthday, they pulled the mattresses off their beds and used sheets to create a fort like they were twelve. Hidden away from the other ‘looney tunes’, they shared a piece of double chocolate cake and gossiped about which staff members were sleeping together. 

It was the most fun two teenage boys could have with each other.

“Twelve more months,” Gabe whispered, using his fork to stab another piece of cake. “Twelve more months and I can check myself out of this God-forsaken place.”

Sam frowned. They had discussed their plan for escape on more than a few occasions. The fact always remained though — Sam would be left alone in the hospital for four months and five days without Gabriel. His parents had long-since stopped visiting… had stopped caring altogether. Once a month his mom would call, but he had started refusing to answer. 

It was always the same bullshit. ‘The doctors don’t think you’re well enough to leave. They think you’ll relapse.’

The real reason was always left unspoken. _We think you’ll go searching for Dean and start some disgusting incestuous relationship. How would that look, Sam?_

He shook away his thoughts and tried to focus on the present. After one more bite of cake, he pushed the rest towards Gabriel. It was his birthday, after all, he deserved it. When the plate was set aside, Sam picked up the wrapped gift that he had asked the nurses to help him acquire. He held it out to his friend with a smile. “Happy birthday, Gabe.”

Gabriel unwrapped the present and let out a small squeal of delight when he saw what was inside… a one-pound bar of Hershey’s chocolate. “Best birthday ever!”

In his excitement, Gabriel turned and wrapped his arms around Sam. A moment later, soft lips were on Sam’s and suddenly they were kissing. 

Sam felt his blood run cold and quickly shoved Gabriel away. “What the fuck, Gabe!”

“Sorry.” His friend immediately looked hurt, as he brought two fingers up to his own lips. “Got carried away. I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Don’t — don’t fucking _do that_ , okay?”

Gabriel frowned. “It was just a kiss, Sam.”

“I don’t kiss dudes, Gabe,” he growled. He moved away, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. 

“Oh, I see. You’re only gay when it’s with your brother.”

The words were like a sharp dagger, slicing straight through Sam’s skin. He lashed out, shoving Gabriel as hard as he could. Gabriel fell, along with the sheets of their self-constructed fort. 

“Get out,” Sam screamed. “Get the fuck out of my room!”

Gabriel stood, holding a hand to the back of his head and staring at Sam in shock. “I thought you liked me, Sam! Wasn’t that the point in all of this? Realizing you could like someone other than _him_?”

Sam pulled the blankets over his head, clasping his hands over his ears as he began to rock back and forth. Despite screaming ‘get out’ over and over, Dean was still there. Sam could tell him to go away until his voice cracked, but it never worked.

\---

Sam didn’t leave his room again for three days. Gabriel never showed up with food. The chocolate bar sat forgotten on the middle of the floor.

When he finally walked the stark white halls again, he found himself headed towards Gabe’s room by instinct. He needed to apologize. The kiss had been nothing more than a misunderstanding and Sam had reacted horribly. 

He got to Gabe’s room, seven doors down from his own, and stepped inside. He froze instantly at the sight before him. 

Gabriel’s room had always been covered in taped up posters of rock stars and candy advertisements. At any given point the floor would be littered with at least twelve forgotten candy wrappers. 

All of that was gone. The walls were once again bare, the floor was sparkling clean, and the bed was pristinely made.

And empty. The room was _empty._

Sam stepped back out into the hall, looking into the rooms on either side to make sure he had the right one. 

“Gabe?” He called out. Spinning, he ran for the nurse’s station. “Where’s Gabriel?” he was yelling before he even arrived.

The nurse on duty, an older woman named Caroline, gave him a sad smile. “Gabe is gone, Sam.”

She kept talking but he couldn’t hear the words. “No! No! No!” It was _his fault._ “NO!”

Two orderlies stepped out and grabbed onto his thrashing arms. Caroline stepped forward holding a syringe. A sedative, no doubt, that would knock him out until he calmed down.

The needle hit his arm and Sam blinked back tears. “I want Gabe!”

“Shh,” Caroline whispered. “Rest now, Sam. It’ll be alright.”

“I love him,” Sam mumbled, his words starting to slur as the sedative hit his bloodstream. “I love Dean.”

\---

When Sam woke up, he never said Gabriel’s name again. He didn’t think about the other boy, or talk about him, and if the staff members tried to bring the name up Sam found that punching was the easiest response.

The months dragged on like years after that point. Without someone to share his time with, Sam felt like he finally was starting to go crazy. 

The doctors swore he was getting better, though. Probably because he forced himself to eat three square meals a day and to take his medications. In between eating and sleeping, he found a new hobby: drawing. He’d draw whatever was on his mind, whatever emotions he was dealing with. Sometimes he would scribble until the lights were dimmed for the evening and his pencil was barely a nub.

People liked to examine drawings of mental patients. Liked to psychoanalyze every line and curve. It was for that reason alone that Sam shredded every finished project. He wouldn’t allow himself to be a case study for the doctors.

Two days before his eighteenth birthday, the nurses delivered word that his parents were on their way down to visit. They were due to arrive on the afternoon of his birthday so they could spend a few hours with him.

Sam was checked out by nine a.m. He didn’t have a dollar to his name or anywhere to go, but there was no way he was staying there for a minute longer than he had to.

He stayed in a shelter in Dallas for a week. Then he met Brady, a spoiled rich kid being forced to go to law school in Stanford. Tall, blonde, and handsome Brady… who knew that dating a charity case like Sam was the easiest way to piss off his parents.

Two weeks after checking himself out of the mental hospital he had spent three years in, Sam was moving into an apartment in California. He had a cell phone from his parents, a bag of clothes that barely fit, and a guy willing to support him.

It was all he needed.

But that didn’t stop him from beginning to search for Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This completes Sam's background story. To see more, read Submersion chapter 14 and beyond!

  
_”The quiet but inexorable breaking down of self-esteem is much more sinister - it’s a violation of the soul.”_ \- Rachel Abbott

\---

The cell phone on the table started to vibrate. Across the room, Sam sat in his favorite chair reading Dickens and trying to pretend he couldn’t hear it. It was a moot point, of course, because in the quiet and still apartment even such a soft sound was cranked up to ten.

From the bedroom, Brady let out a huff (another noise that Sam could hear clearly) and an instant later he was standing over the phone, picking it up and throwing it in Sam’s direction. “If you aren’t going to answer the damn thing, why even have it?”

The phone landed with a soft thud against his lap and finally stopped making noise. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out who was calling. The same person had been trying to get in touch with him for weeks.

Sam had absolutely no desire to talk his mother. He was a thousand miles away, safely ensconced in an apartment in San Francisco. He had Brady… he didn’t need his parents.

The phone buzzed again, followed by another sigh from the bedroom. “Sam, please, I’m trying to study here!”

He quickly denied the call before shutting the phone off completely and setting it aside. 

As he went back to reading, he tried to turn the pages of his book as silently as possible. Brady had a test in two days, and he was always on edge when worried about passing an exam. Sam tried to do his best not to aggravate his boyfriend during those times.

He had finished two more chapters when he heard Brady calling for him from the bedroom. 

“Sammy, baby, come here for a minute.”

Aggravation swept through him at the use of _Sammy_ — Brady knew exactly how much that name bothered him and he didn’t care. Sam could tell him a million times not to use that name, and Brady would still pull it out as a way of causing Sam pain.

With a sigh, he put a bookmark down to mark his spot before shutting the book and setting it aside. Ignoring Brady would only lead to outbursts and temper tantrums later on. 

His boyfriend sat at the desk that had been shoved into the corner of their bedroom, relaxed back in the leather desk chair. His legs were spread wide and his pants were undone — shoved down far enough to free his cock.

Sam bit back a sigh. He knew exactly what Brady wanted.

“Sammy,” he started, “be a dear and suck me off, would you? My nerves are wound entirely too tight for me to concentrate.”

All experience and knowledge that Sam had in regards to blowjobs was thanks to Brady. He knew how to give, never to receive (‘That’s disgusting, Sam. That’s part of your role as _bottom._ ’) and he knew that any argument or refusal would lead to Brady threatening to kick him out. 

It was less than ideal. Sam could probably ignore the bitter taste of come and enjoy giving his partner pleasure — if Brady didn’t find it necessary to get forceful. 

“ _Sammy_ ,” Brady repeated, knocking Sam out of his reverie. 

With a soft sigh, he knelt down on the floor in front of Brady and got to work. It had only taken a few months to find the balance between mechanical movements and pretending he was enjoying himself. No matter what he did, though, Brady would still grab onto his hair when he was getting close and force his cock down Sam’s throat. 

Sometimes he liked to close his eyes and imagine he was with Dean. What would his brother taste like? What kind of noises would Dean make as he got closer and closer to the edge? Would he be forceful and grip Sam’s hair to guide his movements? Or calm and loving, letting Sam control the pace?

Once Brady had come, leaving Sam choking softly and wiping at his mouth, Brady tucked himself back into his pants and turned to face his computer once more. “Thanks. Are you making the roast beef for dinner tonight?”

Sam stood, shaking his head even if Brady couldn’t see. “I told you yesterday that I had to take an evening shift at work. I won’t be here to cook.”

Brady turned back to him slowly, a frown on his face. “Sam, it’s your responsibility to handle meals. I’m tired of having this argument with you. I allowed you to get this little job as a means of quelling your boredom, but only on the agreement that you would still take care of housework and evening meals. I didn’t approve of you taking on extra shifts at night.”

“I’m not—” Sam ran a frustrated hand through his long hair. “I’m not taking on _extra_ shifts. One of the managers is out on vacation this week and everyone else had to fill in. It was _required_ , Brady.”

“Well, call them and tell them you have prior a engagement and can’t make it.”

“They’ll fire me!”

Brady stood in a flash, grabbing onto Sam’s collar and pulling him close. The mere inches of height difference between them didn’t seem to matter — when Brady was angry, Sam felt small and weak. “Either you call them _now_ and tell them you will not be there, or I will bruise that pretty face so badly you won’t want to be seen in public. Understood?”

Sam ducked his gaze and bit the inside of his lip to keep his emotions intact. “Yes, sir.”

With force, Brady shoved Sam onto the floor. “As punishment for your disobedience, I’m pulling out the paddle tonight.”

He flinched immediately at the thought. The wooden paddle meant more than just a spanking. It meant a lack of preparation and more than likely the handcuffs and gag to keep Sam from screaming or fighting back.

He hated it when he pushed Brady too far and made him angry. He hated the days of pain that would follow.

Moving back out to the living room, he used the house phone to call over to his work at the coffee shop down the street and inform them that he wouldn’t be there that evening. Like he had assumed, the owner wasn’t pleased and gave Sam an ultimatum of showing up or getting fired. ‘ _I need responsible employees, Sam. You can’t make a promise and break it two hours before without a reason._ ’

Oh if only the guy knew the real reason. 

With a sense of dread boiling in the pit of his stomach, he moved into the kitchen to begin working on the roast beef that Brady had requested for dinner. Maybe if he prepared it well and also finished the laundry, Brady wouldn’t use the handcuffs.

\---

Sam couldn’t sleep well after his punishment. His ass ached despite the ointment he had lathered on, and he couldn’t find a comfortable position to lay in. Instead of tossing and turning — and potentially waking Brady and pissing him off more — Sam climbed from the bed and shuffled out of the bedroom. He closed the door gently behind him and moved over to where he had left his Dickens book earlier. If he laid out on his stomach on the floor, he might be able to read himself to sleep. He picked up his book, before noticing his cellphone, still shut off from when he discarded it earlier. He grabbed the phone and held the button to turn it back on, curious if any of his friends from work had texted to ask what had happened.

A couple of them had, but he ignored those messages in favor of listening to the voicemail that was waiting. The number was one he didn’t recognize from somewhere in Portland, Oregon. He couldn’t figure out _who_ he would know in Portland.

‘ _Hello Mr. Winchester, my name is Melody Erickson and I’m calling from OHSU hospital in Portland, Oregon. We had a patient admitted to our care about an hour ago by the name of Dean Winchester. He has you down as a contact in case of emergencies. If you could give me a call back…_ ’

The phone dropped from Sam’s hand. Melody Erickson’s voice continued, a tinny sound coming out of the speaker laying against the floor.

Dean was _alive._

Dean was _one state away_ in Portland, Oregon.

In a hospital.

Sam’s heart raced as he glanced from the phone at his feet to the closed bedroom door.

He had been searching for his brother for over twelve months, without any success. Now he had an answer, but there was no way Brady would let him leave.

Thankfully, even though Brady controlled his paychecks, he was unaware of the tip money that Sam received every shift and tucked away. He had just enough cash to get him to Portland on a Greyhound.

His eyes tracked to the laundry room door, barely visible through the kitchen. He knew that inside, on top of the dryer, were the clean clothes he’d washed earlier. Ready to put away.

Ready to be packed into a bag so that he could leave without waking Brady.

He moved as quiet as a mouse, packing his things into a duffel that had been stashed in the hall closet. Some clothes, his favorite book, his wad of savings, and his cellphone. He dressed quickly in the laundry room and carried the full bag back out to the living room so he could put his boots on. He would buy a ticket at the Greyhound station. Call the hospital from there to check on Dean’s condition.

He was going to get to see his brother again. After four very long and lonely years.


End file.
